Isis: The E6 Breeder (Lycan Breeder Series Book No. 2)

Scenes 15 and 16

The unusually quiet game room spread out before Liam. No cracking of pool balls, the tv silently cast bright scenes of a human rugby game, the leather couches didn't groan at all tonight under the excessive weight of any of the fighters. The only noises he occasionally contributed to the scene was a clinking of glass, breathing, and an occasional unanswered curse.

The darkened corner he was holed-up in was near shelves of expensive alcohol that he wasn't interested in. There was just one liquor for him. The Grey Goose bottles towered over the others, reaching high towards the ceiling. Comparatively precarious with its balance when looking at all the short squat bottles of various shades of brown around it. If he didn't drink for a while, they would get a fine layer of dust on the already foggy surface. These next three bottles wouldn't need housecleaning to keep them sparkling clean. They were sure to have a short lifespan in this room.

If only he smoked, and they allowed it inside. Maybe then he would have something to do with his hands other than pick at his cuticles and twirl the clear ice cubes in the clear liquid in the clear glass. Whenever he tried to remember when he started favoring such a colorless combination for his preferred vice all he saw was his dad with a tumbler full of the stuff in this very same room.

A bottle of blue with a much more squat profile than his own glowed in the low lighting. Could his dad have been drinking gin instead of vodka? He could ask the others from that generation, but what would it matter. Liam has made his choice, has developed his preferences and his lifestyle. This life is his now.

The widest of them sauntered in, drawn to the bright green of the TV that occasionally showed well defined thighs in white shorts run through. Silent yelling with damp dark locks clinging to their wet faces, as if they were calling to the male specifically. Kylian heeded the call of his personal siren: ESPN.

The remote was in his hand and just as he was about to flood the area with whistles and foreign accents, he lifted his face, pulling in a current of air. Twisting his head, he locked onto the leader in the corner.

But who made him the leader? It wasn't an official title, or nomination, or anything specific. Yet they all treated him that way. He was the tiebreaker. If it was three-three, they would go in the direction he voted. He was the scheduler and planner. But what weighed heaviest on him was that he was the target and focus of their frustrations and any failures, including the shit show that happened last night.

"I thought I smelled heroic depression under a layer of vodka," Kylian smirked as he abandoned his pursuit of din from Australia. There was a group, shoulder to shoulder, jumping in some sort of strange pattern behind the barrel chest of the other inhabitant in the room. The players were getting ready for something important, that required all of them to move not as one unit, but together. They weren't jumping the same height at the same time, the scattered pattern of them had a stronger effect. Offense or defense, Liam didn't know. Shit, was that rugby or soccer?

"Heroic?" Liam tilted the glass that had been recently refreshed, allowing the liquid to cascade from around the frozen water and over his tongue. Such a short trip before it was locked away in the biological process of digesting and filtering and getting him drunk. The latter was the goal. He had no obligations tonight. No shifts to cover at the packhouse or trailing that godessforsaken mate of Adrien's. Everyone was restricted with Derek in recovery, Isis in the hospital, Adrien on lockdown. There was only six of them at the best of times.

"There are words that suit you better, but we'll stick with the more complimentary ones for now. You look like you can't handle too much constructive criticism tonight."

Kylian took up a barstool one over from his newly acquired drinking partner once he had secured a bottle and glass of his own. Whiskey, neat. Doesn't matter the style or brand, if it burns and isn't diluted with water, he seems to be happy.